


soulmates

by kandayuu



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Reader is Lenalee, like idk what came over me but the most sappy fic came out of it, super sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandayuu/pseuds/kandayuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt taken from a list of soulmate AUs on tumblr._  
>  This is my first time posting anything on Ao3 so.  
> Any comments you guys might wanna throw my way would be very cool.  
> Just sayin'.

You don’t know how to tell him, because you’re pretty sure he was doing it to tease you, but when you go to check the scar you got on your last mission (from scraping your hand on a rusty fence, and you swear you’ll be more careful next time, honestly, your boys like to worry over nothing) you realize he’s kissed it off of you. This could be a problem.

You all know about the legend. It’s silly and too cheesy for your taste; you’re not a little girl anymore and you don’t think you believe in soulmates after seeing how cruel the world can be. But the idea crosses your mind as you stare, bewildered, at the place where the line in your skin used to be, and can’t help but wonder. Your eyes flicker up to his retreating back, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s true, or if you’re seeing things. Yes, maybe you’re remembering wrong, and the sting of metal opening your skin happened in a different spot, and the spot your looking at is warm and tingling because you’re overthinking things. Yes.

You don’t want to ask, because the thought is too embarrassing, but after dinner you notice the long scar on his wrist, the one he says he got fighting off a thief on his travels, but you’re not sure you believe him, because it looks too similar to the ones you have, and you can’t help but consider it. And you do, after dinner, when he’s walking back to his room and you run after him. He gives you a look that is part dopey smile that you love and part surprised, because he doesn’t understand why you’re holding his wrist. Until he does. Your lips leave his skin quickly because you’re embarrassed, and when you look up into his face, pink blooming on his cheeks, you notice he’s embarrassed too. But that isn’t important. What’s important is that it disappears. You watch, wide-eyed and scared, and it disappears, like water on hot pavement, like the breeze on a warm day, and you don’t know what to think. You run to your room before he can ask you about it.

You’re avoiding him and he notices. You keep getting up whenever he sits down at meals, you don’t talk to him on missions, you don’t even scold him when he teases you, you can’t even look him in the eye. He corners you after you get debriefed on your next mission, back pressed up against the cool stone in the stairwell, and you ask him, “What is it Lavi?” while you stare pointedly at the floor.

He says, “Lenalee. Lenalee Lee. Why won’t you talk to me anymore, Lena? Is it because you’re my soulmate?”

You jump, but you should’ve considered this. He is too perceptive for his own good. You say, “What good does it do you to know. It- it doesn’t- I’m. I’m sorry." 

You mean it. This is more trouble than it’s worth, for the both of you. You don’t know how to feel about any of it, only that you’re making trouble for a bookman in training who isn’t allowed to love anyone, and you think you do. You do. You love this boy and there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the way he always does, that tells you it’s too late to stop any of it.

"Lenalee.” He says it softly, reverently, gently, whispers it against your skin, and you close your eyes, hurting. His lips ghost over your cheeks, your neck. He touches your skin, where year-old scars sit, the ones that hurt the most, because you just wanted to be with the one who loves you, and now a boy who understands your pain is wishing it away. 

He’s saying, “I’m sorry”, though he has nothing to apologize for, because he’s as trapped in this hell of a war as you, by kissing away your scars. You’re a little frightened. You can’t help it. You’ve lived with them for so long, you don’t know how to feel now that they’re going away, but they’re going.

And so are the ones from fighting, and so are the ones from every day accidents, and he’s hesitating at the ones from your innocence, the ones on your feet, because you don’t know if he can kiss away all of your scars, but he tries. And you both find yourself laughing because they only fade a little. He apologizes again, through his laughter, and you forgive him. 

You tell him you forgive him and that you love him, and you love the blush that rises on his face when you tell him. And you pull him down next to you, the step you’re both occupying warm, and you gently kiss away his scars, because you want to make it up to him, because you're always making him worry, because all of this soulmate business is more trouble than it's worth but maybe, just maybe, this will make up for it, somehow. You kiss away his scars. You only blush when he tells you, his accompanying grin full of mischief, how soft your lips feel. You get the feeling he’s getting revenge when he tells you he loves you more and kisses more pink into your cheeks.


End file.
